


Requiem

by Hairofgoldeyesofblue



Series: Things That Can't Be Taught [3]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hairofgoldeyesofblue/pseuds/Hairofgoldeyesofblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sloan and Don reminisce.</p><p>Spoilers for season three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

Sloan always thought it was laughably ironic when funerals happened on days with beautiful weather. Logically, she knew of course that people were dying every day and it couldn’t be gloomy all the time, but still, it just felt wrong when the climate didn’t match the mood.

Charlie’s funeral was no different, and Sloan couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by the universe when the day dawned cloudless and sunny instead of the preferential gray and overcast.

The family had decided to hold a little luncheon after the burial. It was really supposed to be more of a cocktail party, because of Charlie’s affinity for drinking, and as alcohol flowed and a hundred people spilled out of the mansion onto the patio, it quickly became a strange combination of subdued and rowdy.

Sloan was in a deserted corner of the backyard, perched on one of the swings of Sophie’s old swing set, and clutching a glass of pinot noir, when Don found her.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”

She shrugged, digging the toe of one of her Jimmy Choos into the grass. “Just thinking about how little I knew Charlie. I mean, I _thought_ I knew him, but then during the eulogies earlier I realized that I really don’t…or didn’t, I guess. We talked about work, and I knew about Nancy and Sophie and Vietnam, but I didn’t know about any of this.” – she gestured to the massive house and yard before them – “I just… He wasn’t supposed to die like this.”

Don nodded and leaned against one of the sturdy wooden posts. “Yeah… I was thinking the same thing.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Sloan adjusted herself in the plastic swing that wasn’t _quite_ large enough for her adult-sized rear end. “When I was little, I used to twist myself on the swings until I couldn’t get the chains any tighter and then I’d let go and spin so fast that afterwards I wouldn’t be able to walk straight. I always liked that feeling of spinning out of control, you know? One time, I was at the park by myself, and I was twisting myself up on the swing and my hair got caught in the chains. I couldn’t get untwisted and I couldn’t get my hair untangled. I was terrified and it hurt so badly and I started crying. I had to stay like that until the sun started to set and my mom came looking for me. She had to cut my hair where it had gotten stuck, and I ended up with this patch of hair that was uneven for months. All the kids at school made fun of me.”

Don raised his eyebrows. “Is this story about your tangled hair supposed to be a metaphor for Charlie dying?”

Sloan halfheartedly rolled her eyes and snorted. “No. That was the night before my grandpa died. He was a lot like Charlie – always wore a bow tie and everything…”

“What happened to your grandpa?”

“He was in a plane crash – a really bad one – in Japan. There were 524 people on board, and only four survived.”

Don squinted at her for a minute. “Japan Air 123?” he finally asked.

“Oh,” Sloan replied, surprised he knew that off the top of his head. “Yeah.”

“You’ve never mentioned it before.”

She shrugged and finished off the last of her wine before continuing. “They lived in Japan so we only saw them a couple times a year. I never really got to know him. My grandma moved to the US after that to be near us so she wasn’t alone, but… Anyway, from what I _do_ remember about him, he reminded me of Charlie.”

Don pushed himself off of the post and took a step towards her. He gently tipped her dark sunglasses up so he could see her eyes, which were suspiciously watery looking. “Come here,” he said quietly.

Sloan let Don pull her up from the swing and into his arms. She stood there in his tight embrace for minutes – hours? – until she was ready to talk. “It isn’t fair. Sophie’s too young to not have a dad. Nancy shouldn’t have to be a widow. Will and Mac – all of us – shouldn’t have to do the news without him.”

Don liked to fix things – be it an interview that was on its way off the rails, or by accompanying Sloan to kick her ex-boyfriend’s ass – but this was one situation where there was nothing he could do to help. All he could do was ignore all the people across the yard and wrap his arms around Sloan a little tighter, burying his nose in her hair and rubbing her back as silent tears slipped from her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
